CLICK, BABY, CLICK!
by G.E Waldo
Summary: Summary: Cuddy needs to raise funds. A hospital Christmas calender is the solution! Sexy pictures of Plainsborough's sexy Doctors. Guess who Chac the photographer wants to make the special "centerfold" feature? SLASH
1. Chapter 1

CLICK, BABY, CLICK!

--

Part I

By GeeLady

Summary: Cuddy needs to raise funds. A hospital Christmas calender is the solution! Sexy pictures of Plainsborough's sexy Doctors. Guess who Chac the photographer wants to make the special "centerfold" feature?

Rating: M. Adult. NC-17 Pre-Slash, Slash, language.

Pairing: House/Other (Chac)

Disclaimer: I manipulate the sexy House and others to my hearts content. No fee's, no earnings,...just fun!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Are these all the physicians?"

Cuddy's very attractive visitor shuffled through the photographs and short write-up's of a selection of her male on-staff M.D.'s. Some he set aside, some he left in the original pile.

"Those are all the doctors willing to participate." She said.

Chac Alezandro nodded, flashing her a small smile. He was a tall, slim, nicely built fellow in his mid-twenties who was, by reputation, a crack photographer. His very dark curly hair, which he kept neatly clipped close to his scalp, and almond colored skin suggested a South American background.

Sharp brown eyes summed up the two dimensional faces in the photographs he had chosen and set aside. He looked more closely at them one by one. "It's a good mix. I know it seems a little shallow, and to some maybe undignified but a lot of hospitals are trying this. Most have had a terrific success."

Of course, he had to promote his trade. What else would he say, Cuddy thought. Still, Plainsborough needed to renovate the Clinic from top to bottom and it being a free clinic, the money for such a project tasted of unnecessary waste to her rich contributors. Why renovate a perfectly usable clinic in fair condition for a bunch of free-loaders? That was not of course the way the words had been phrased at her most recent fund-raiser (a dismal failure) by those rich contributors, but Cuddy easily read between the lines. The clinic brought in no dollars. It served the poor well enough. Their hard-interest-earning money could be more frugally used elsewhere.

A fellow Dean from the mid-west had suggested this route. Cuddy had resisted the idea for a while but one day when walking through the small clinic, seeing the over-crowding, the cracks in the tiles, the flaking paint, the outdated equipment and drab looking nineteen-seventies wall art, she had succumbed.

They needed at least six or seven million dollars to completely renovate and refurbish Plainsborough Free Clinic. Cuddy had made the call.

And here her solution stood inside her office, his trained eye scanning the photos of the male staff willing to help.

"Really?" Cuddy asked. "How much of a success?"

Chac thought about it. "Well, this is my third calender this year - most hospitals want it to come out for Christmas, which will be possible for yours. Last year I did four and some made anywhere between three and five million dollars when all was said and done." He looked at her. "You'll have to find ways to promote it's sale. And start early in the year. Send copies and order forms to every contributor, peddle them to suppliers, to patients, staff, staff's families, the big shopping malls. Get orders from book stores, especially the big chains - Christmas sales are the big money maker. Everywhere you go, every trip you take between now and December, take boxes of them with you and promote, promote, promote."

Cuddy knew the routine. Half of the responsibility of being a hospital Administrator was raising money. You had to be a boss, a doctor, a diplomat, a counselor, a friend, and a saleswoman. You wore whatever hat was required at the time and acted like you knew exactly what you were doing.

It was early February so she had the time. Cuddy hoped she'd be able to pull it off. Seventeen doctors had agreed to participate in the thing, and Chac had cast aside six of them. He held up each photo, commenting, "'Doctor Chase'. He'll be a good draw for the younger crowd. Bedroom eyes but enough of the inexperienced youth in his look to suggest sexual innocence."

Chac noticed Cuddy's blush. "It's just part of the art, and the sell. I'm already thinking ahead to the type of photo that would make him look the hottest. Respectable head-shots are not going to get you any money."

"But naked pictures..?"

"Nude, not naked. And of course there won't be any full frontals, these aren't pornographic, just...beautiful human bodies. Tasteful male forms - there's nothing better." Chac smiled to himself. Then answered, "Yes, I'm, gay." to her politely un-asked question. "That's why I really enjoy my work. I like men."

"I'm a bit partial myself." She said.

"Wow." Chac said, "He's gorgeous." He read the name, "James Wilson." I'll have to think a little on him, he could be the Feature."

""Feature"?"

"Sorry. I always include an extra few pages in the center of the Calendar - between June and July - you know, the hottest months."

Cuddy smiled. The juxtaposition was a little obvious. ""Featured" how?"

"Extra photos. A lay out of photos of the sexiest male, somewhere between ten and twelve pictures in total over four to six pages. It's makes my calenders sell better than most. Of course my competitors are starting to adopt the idea, but...whatever, it's always been a big hit."

"You think you might use Wilson?" Cuddy hoped so, Doctor Wilson was a very good looking man.

"Looks that way so far." Chac went through the rest of the photo's. "Johnson, St. Pierre, - he's cute - Yates, Kassab?...mmmm...East Indian man-pretty, nice even features, great eyes...maybe." To himself, "There might be just one who..." He closely scrutinized the last four of the hospital manifest two by three's, then fingered Wilson's picture again. "Yeah, yeah probably Wilson."

"When can you start?" Cuddy asked. "Most of these Doctors work long hours. I can work out something on their days off if you like..?"

"Whenever works for me. I work around my subjects schedules. I can do the shoots here, at their homes, in a park, anywhere that best suits them though I do need at least one sitting for each of them in the hospital and in my studio."

Cuddy shook his hand. "Fine. All right if I give them your cell number and you can work it out with them?"

"Yeah." Chac scribbled it on the back of his business card. "I can start today."

Cuddy smiled. She was getting more and more into the idea.

Her smile faltered when House pushed her door open with his cane and walked in already talking, "...or I can't get any work done! Where is my computer?"

Cuddy had forgot to tell him. "Oh, right. Sorry. We've been having network trouble and the technician guy said he had to take a few towers and do some sort of tests on the motherboards, or something. They'll be back by the end of the week."

House perched himself on the arm of Cuddy's office couch and absentmindedly twirled his cane. "How am I suppose to do research without my computer?"

"You mean download porn and compare the boob-jobs?"

"It's a _kind_ of research." House insisted innocently.

"Uh, huh." Cuddy noticed Chac staring at House and realized she had not introduced them. "Chac, this is Doctor House. House, Chac Alezandro."

House barely glanced at the guy. "My pleasure - Cuddy, I need my computer."

Cuddy's face set. She escorted House to her door. "The on-line poker can wait. If you're desperate, we'll get you a laptop. Now go do something you're actually getting paid for, like work." She pushed him out.

Cuddy turned with a ready apology, "Sorry about that. House can be a little in-your-face sometimes."

"He's a doctor here?" Chac asked, still staring after House's retreating, limping back.

"Yes. A very good doctor, just not a very nice man."

Chac raised his eyebrows at her. "I beg to differ. He's pretty fine. Why isn't his picture with these?"

With something akin to shock, "House??" Cuddy asked. "I...didn't even think to ask him." She shook both hands as though waving potential trouble away. "You don't know House, he would never, ever go for something like this."

"Will you ask him?"

"Did I say House can be in-your-face? Because I meant he can be a LOT in-your-face. He can be so in-your-face you feel like he's standing behind you at the same time-"

To no one in particular; to the room, or just to himself, "-he's perfect." Chac softly said.

"What? No, no. You do _not_ want House."

Puzzled, Chac asked, "Why? You don't think he's good looking?"

Cuddy tilted her head and conceded, "I suppose he is in some irritatingly, obnoxious, brat fashion nice looking, but he's...so...so..."

"-Absolutely smoking hot." Chac finished. He was still looking at the direction where House had disappeared. "Seriously sexy."

Cuddy shook her head, still uncertain of her hearing. "_House??" _

"He has to be in the calender." Chac said. "He has to be the Feature." He insisted.

Cuddy almost swallowed her tongue. The man was serious. "Are you kidding me? We do want this thing to sell..."

"With him in it, it'll sell. It'll sell like you won't believe." Chac looked at her disbelieving face. "Trust me. I know what I'm talking about."

"Even if you think he'd make a good model, he'll never do it. He hides from scrutiny, he dislikes his picture being taken, he despises artifice - he hates people!"

"It doesn't matter what he thinks. What matters is what I think, and what I can make him think. Models are lumps of clay. All you need is a skilled hand to turn them into works of art."

"But House is a doctor, not a model."

"He's a subject. I'm a photographer. When I'm finished with him, every woman - and gay man for that matter - in New Jersey over the age of twenty who sees this calender is going to get _wet_ over him."

Cuddy was speechless.

Chac could see she needed more convincing, of the monetary kind. "Don't you get it? We're doing a calender about doctors willingly sacrificing their time - and clothes - to raise money so a teaching hospital can rebuild its free clinic so the poorer people it serves will have the best equipment and attention, yadda, yadda, yadda...

"House is gorgeous. He's got a perfect face for the camera and I can make him look amazing! And, if you'll excuse my political incorrectness, he's a cripple. If _he_, a disabled doctor, is the Feature...it will turn peoples hearts into jelly. Imagine! - a disabled doctor working hard for the poor..."

Cuddy snorted.

"Listen! A doctor - himself disabled - volunteering for a project to raise money for his patients; some of them disabled. It sounds dishonest, but it's the perfect con. That's all art really is. A con for the mind, the heart or, in this case, the wallet."

Chac now and then still glanced down the hallway where House had disappeared, all but smacking his lips at the thought. "Just picture it. A disabled physician - a gorgeous, sexy crippled doctor - poor thing! - limping around curing people - the very idea is erotic. People'll turn their pockets inside-out. You'll make way more money if we use House. Maybe you'll even have extra money to do more than fix your clinic. House has to be the Feature. He's tall, handsome, nicely built, incredible eyes, legs that won't quit - he's _delicious_."

Cuddy had a hard time making her tongue move. Use House?...it was insane. "Ah, okay, I...guess we can try. But I know this man. He is not going to agree, I'm telling you..."

"Let me talk to him."

Cuddy shook her head, but Chac had come highly recommended, and he had nearly convinced her. She conceded. "Sure. What the hell."

Cuddy explained to Chac where he could find House's office. "Good luck." And after he was gone, "You'll need it."

XXX

Chac entered House's office and walked right up to his desk.

House, left off bouncing his baseball off the wall, and swivelled to return the fellow's stare.

Neither of them said anything. House pitched his ball back and forth between his hands. "You sick?" He finally asked the young man from Cuddy's office standing before him.

Shaking his head, "No."

House stood, grabbed his cane and limped to his stereo. "Good. Then you don't have to stay here. Bye, bye." House dismissed and began flipping through his vinyl album collection. But the fellow didn't move.

Finally House choose a record, put it on the old-fashioned turn-table, lowered the diamond needled arm down onto the grooves and listened as the soft chords of America undulated around his office.

House returned to his seat. The young man had not moved an inch. House, warily watching the man watch him, seated himself again.

Instead of leaving the young photographer placed both palms on House's desk and leaned over seductively to stare at him. "You," The young man from Cuddy's office finally said, "have I think the bluest and sexiest eyes I have ever seen."

House stared back, frozen for just a second. "Oka-a-a-y-y," House's eyes screwed up as though in pain. With no little sarcasm, "Am I blushing? 'Cause I'm leaving now." House took up his cane and walked out of his office. The younger man followed.

Realizing he was being tailed, House tried to hurry.

Young man easily kept up.

House, nearly out of breath, burst through Cuddy's office doors, jerking a thumb behind him to his stalker. "Okay," He said to Cuddy, "Who is this creep?"

Cuddy got up, "He's not a creep. He's the photographer I hired."

"If you're getting your portrait done, keep him out of my office. He just made a pass at me."

Chac laughed a little.

Irritated that the guy appeared to be enjoying his discomfort, House held his cane up in a threatening manner, "I hell with this cane, boy-toy."

"Put it down!" Cuddy snapped. She calmed down and explained to her over-reacting employee. "The hospital is doing a Christmas calender, and Chac here, in his - sorry Chac - good hearted ignorance, thinks you might be interested in volunteering to pose for it, along with Wilson, Chase and some others." She waited for the House-flavored mocking she knew was coming and was mildly surprised when none did.

House just turned to the photographer. "Well, Chac Here, I'm not. Thanks, goodbye." House left.

Cuddy sighed, but felt relieved. "Sorry. And I told you so." She said to Chac.

But Chac was not discouraged. "That sexiest eyes line usually works." He saw his newest subject-to-be was going to prove more of a challenge than anticipated. To Cuddy, "I'll get started with the rest but,...could you try to work on him? Oh, I'll need a visitor's pass so I can do a few shoots in their offices and around the hospital."

"Yes, to the Pass, but," Cuddy spread her hands in appeal. "can't you just use Doctor Wilson for the Feature? He's charming, he's really nice, he's good looking, he's..._really_ nice!"

Chac shook his head no. "He is a babe, and I'll definitely use him if Doctor House refuses. But I really would prefer Doctor House as my Feature. He's..." Chac almost smacked his lips, "...sultry and seductive, but in a very I-play-hard-to-get-but-in-the-end-you'll have-me, yummy way."

Cuddy threw him a look that left no doubt she thought hin a little crazy. But, nodding she headed for House's office, catching up to him just as he entered his diagnostic domain. "I need you to do this." She said to him.

"You need me to give lectures. You need me to work the clinic. You won't get those either." He raised his head. "On the other hand, how many clinic hours to NOT sit for a photo with...what-ever-his-name-is back there?"

"He wants you."

"Not frisky right now! I don't want _him_. Tell him to ask Wilson." House sorted his mail. "He's the cute one, like a big eared puppy wagging his tail at everybody. Plus I suspect he's maybe got a foot or two in the closet. A supple wrist anyway."

"House, we need the money. We desperately need a new clinic and Chac, for some insane reason I can't fathom, thinks your face will make that happen."

For House it was simple, "Tell him he's wrong."

"I did. I also told him you were nuts and it didn't make a dent. He's as obsessive as you are."

House tore open and discarded one envelope after another. "Hire a different photographer."

"You owe me."

"So you keep telling me. How many more "payments" 'till we're even?" His leg throbbed and he plopped down in his chair.

Cuddy tilted her head, seductively. "It'll help you get dates."

He pretended to be hurt. "I get dates."

"I mean ones not on your speed dial who charge by the hour." Cuddy thought for a second. "I'll do you one better than your offer. IF you sit for the photo's," she underlined the 's', "I'll give you a month off clinic duty."

"To publically humiliate myself - I mean the kind of humiliation that sticks with you? - no thanks."

She perched herself on the corner of his desk and crossed one leg over the other. "Six weeks. Including one week off with pay."

He stared at her shapely calves. "Will that get me a date with you?"

She grinned. "Come on...six weeks without annoying patients with their bruises and blisters, no having to eyeball crotch rot, no boring sprains, no looking up people's noses..."

"Not enough to willingly flash my tush to the world."

Cuddy wasn't sure why Chac thought House was the right candidate but she had to say she tried. "Eight weeks including two weeks off with pay." She leaned over slightly so House got a close-up of her cleavage, "And it's a nice tush."

House, staring at her breasts, hesitated. Eight weeks and an extra vacation was more than tempting. "Flashing the wonder boobs was a nice touch." House said. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. "Fine. But only because you like my tushy."

She stood up. "Thanks. And I was kidding."

"No you weren't."

"Yes I was."

House gathered up a hand full of folders and exited his office. Cuddy's eyes followed him.

"You're looking at my ass right now." House commented on his way out. "You're a liar."

Cuddy smiled.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chac watched his newest, and most grumpy, subject walk through his studio door. "Come in." Chac said, bringing his attention back to his lenses. From the corner of his eye, though, he watched Doctor House limp over to a straight wooden chair set against one wall. He sat in it stiffly, tucking his cane between his legs and resting his hands on the handle.

Chac got the feeling it was a habitual gesture for the disabled doc'. House didn't say anything.

Chac, anxious to gage what sort of resistence he would encounter with the handsome doctor, refrained from small talk. He kept his eyes and hands busy with his camera, the tripod and carefully cleaning the many lenses and filters he was planning to use.

"Can we get this over-with, Chuck." House said.

Fourteen seconds. Whew. This was going to be one by one from the jawbone.

"Uhm, _Chac_. And this is going to take several hours. First sitting here, maybe two, and then at least one at the hospital."

The doctor sighed and looked around the plain, square room. He started twirling his cane, already bored. "I thought there'd be windows." He commented.

Chac was glad for that at least. It meant the guy was at least willing to stay and be civil. "If I want natural light, I go outside. Inside I make my own light." He looked right at his subject. "That way I'm in control of it." He left his work table and made a calculatingly casual approach to the reluctant, but very sexy, doctor.

The way Doctor House was huddled in his chair, wary and watchful, Chac was reminded of a crouching coyote - curious but ready to flee.

"Light, color, shading, shadow. All of it designed to bring out what I like." Chac let his eyes fall across the doctor's features and down his body hidden beneath the layers of cotton shirts and loose, almost ill-fitting denim pants. "To shape what's already shapely, only...more so. To shade, color, angle and curve a man the way I want to see him. The way I think others will enjoy too."

House was listening. Chac wasn't sure if was curiosity or not. "In other words," House said, "to make them believe in what isn't real. To lie. Sounds almost religious."

Curious comparison, Chac thought. But the chit chat was effective. He wanted to disarm Doctor House. Relax but not distract him. He wanted House to become interested, somehow, in the work they were about to do. Chac knew from experience that if House hated the whole process, it would show in his eyes or register in the tiny lines of tension around his mouth. Chac's eye might miss those unwanted feelings but the camera would pick them up and render them true. They would remain alive through each developing stage and starkly displayed on the prints for all to see. It would be a wasted effort.

His studio door opened again and a petite brunette woman entered. As she did, the phone rang in the adjacent small office. She ran to get it. A conversation could be heard but ended quickly. "Sai's is on his way." She called. "About ten minutes."

"Good." Chac said back. "Our subject is here, Michele."

"Okay." She said.

Chac returned to his lenses, tilting his head toward his just arrived assistant. "Michele's my part-time make-up artist. Sai, who was just on the phone, is wardrobe, hair and indoor set man. He's got a great eye."

"Clothes? I thought these were suppose to be-"

"Yes, there will be some nudes. But, with you, we need to..." Chac thought,.."you need to make an entry." He smiled to himself in anticipated delight. "I want to introduce you to their eyes, let them see you working, fully dressed, then in another setting, relaxed, casual, with a little less clothing, and then a little less until we give them the complete treat."

Chac glanced over when he saw Doctor House look away toward the door. Undoubtedly feeling embarrassed, and having seconds thoughts. "I know I'm going to regret this," House asked, "but what does the "full treat" involve exactly?"

"The nude shots of course."

House had already agreed to it but Chac suspected the doc' had hopes to skip it somehow. Maybe House was planning an early exit - bathroom excuse or something and a limpy-gimp out the window.

_Good thing I'm on the fourth floor._

"I don't want..." House started, and when Chac looked over, "a woman here while..."

"She won't be." Chac assured him. "Only between shots, if I need her. You don't mind Sai being here?"

House shook his head once. A tidbit agreement. It was a start.

XXX

House tried to do the poses, look in the directions Chac instructed, display on his face the requested emotions, to not sit too stiffly, to not look annoyed, not look angry. It was impossible.

"Doctor House," Chac rubbed a thumb and finger between his pinched brows, a headache behind his eyes hinting it's painful intent. "Are you _trying_ to blow this? Doctor Cuddy is really counting on this for the hospital-" Guilt often did the trick.

"-I know." House said. "I have to be a good doctor for her and pose in the nude for a bunch of strangers, so she can get her new lab or her new MRI or her new computers or her new clinic. I'm used to her demands, I'm used to be used - lectures and wasting my time in clinic duty for a bunch of sniffling idiots. I'm even _used_ to curiosity about my leg. What I'm not used to is swallowing my dignity and exposing my scar to thousands of curious strangers. Even for a fee!"

Chac looked at his doctor-coerced-model. House's eyes were dark and angry. He looked tired, and kept rubbing his thigh.

Chac was silent for a moment, considering how to proceed. House's outburst told him something. Guilt was not going to work here. And House wasn't just unhappy having to do the shoot, he was hating it. An a little afraid. When Doctor Cuddy warned him of House's resistance, he had no idea...

Chac took a long look at Greg House's face. The man was clearly in ignorance of his own physical appeal. No, doc' House was not a pretty boy. His face was lined and intense and rough. His expressions ranged from indifferent to "get the hell away from me". But the face was also fine boned, the cheeks just prominent, just _there_ enough to catch every shadow, framing his features in a dance of dark and light. The ever present five o'clock shadow, the living emotions that never stopped changing, and those fuckingly blue, perfectly gorgeous eyes, all together translated into one of the most unexpectedly attractive men he had ever seen in his career.

All that was required was a natural touch up.

House had caught him, actually, when the doctor had first rudely barged into Cuddy's office. The face had captured his own brown eyes and not let go. The anger, the quick dismissal of him, had raised hackles on his back for a few seconds. But then House had listened to Cuddy, obeyed her and limped out the door.

In that moment, the change he had witnessed in the doctor, from righteous frustration that had softened to contrite vulnerability, was all Chac had to see.

His mind couldn't shake the man off.

Chac knew his craft very, very well. House, his vibrating personality, along with the looks, the touching disability in a man of such position and reputation, simply oozed sexuality. Chac knew his camera could capture it. He could make Greg House the sexiest man in New Jersey before it was time to decorate the Christmas trees.

He decided at that very moment it had to happen. It had to be House. That face under his lighting, his manipulations, his gentle encouragement and his camera...he'd almost came with the idea of it.

Chac walked over to House, gestured to the doctor's leg with his eyes. "Need a break?"

House nodded, calm now. He limped to the washroom and closed the door. It gave Chac a few minutes to figure new strategy. He would have to engage House's mind for this to work.

He would have to let House in on his particular photographic treatment. This was his differential and Chac understood now that House would require stimulating conversation to keep him interested. House would need to be enticed from his socially hardened shell. Chac would offer the good looking doctor a challenge and maybe even some fun.

Chac considered some avenues for achieving just that as he watched Greg House exit the washroom and reluctantly seat himself again on the bar-type stool. House twirled his cane in his right hand, looking everywhere but at the camera lense.

Chac watched House from the corner of his eye. The man had no goddamn clue how good he looked. How sexy he appeared, just sitting on the stool in those jeans. Chac reminded himself to ask Sai to dress House in something tighter. Those muscles legs needed to be hinted at, drooled over, dreamed about before being shown in all their loveliness.

Chac fiddled with his camera, making certain the shutter was on silent mode. When subjects were unaware they were being photographed, it often made the resulting pictures that much better. Their faces opened up, they became at ease with themselves and their surroundings. Strain melted away, eyes became softer, posture more relaxed, more supple. Sexier.

Just like House was now. The famous doctor was distracting himself, playing with his cane - Chac wondered how often he did that? It seemed a mannerism that was as much a part of him as was the limp.

Chac let the camera, it's lense turned to House on the stool, snap photo after photo. This would be his opening photo: Doctor at Play.

And then, others...(at House's desk maybe): Doctor on the Job. Teaching Doctor - A Difficult Case, Thinking House, Motorcycle Physician, (He would have the cane somewhere in every shot!). Chac let his mind wander to what would undoubtedly be the most tricky shoots: Nude Doctor, Nude Doctor's Gorgeous Legs, Nude Doc' on OR Table, Vulnerable Doctor Needs His Pain Med's, Doctor of the Furiously Beautiful Blue Eyes, Single and Sexy Doctor House!...

Chac smiled to himself, indulging in it, delighting in the visions of his art and the marvelous Feature he'd stumbled over. The appetizing _sex_ that was going to drip off the photos of House once the work was complete..._women and men will __**come**__ when they see him!_

Chac was going to turn taciturn, reclusive, angry, good looking, sexy Doctor Gregory House into the hottest fucking thing going.

XXX

To be continued in Part II


	2. Chapter 2

CLICK, BABY, CLICK!

--

Part II

By GeeLady

Summary: Cuddy needs to raise funds. A hospital Christmas calender is the solution! Sexy pictures of Plainsborough's sexy Doctors. Guess who Chac the photographer wants to make the special "centerfold" feature?

Rating: M. Adult. NC-17 Pre-Slash, Slash, language.

Pairing: House/Other (Chac)

Disclaimer: I manipulate the sexy House and others to my hearts content. No fee's, no earnings,...just fun!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Chac kept House outside for the better part of the afternoon, until House's leg put a stop to it.

"Sorry about that." Chac said when he saw House rubbing his thigh. "We're done for today."

Not bothering to hide his irritation, ""For today"?? -- how many more sessions?" House asked.

"Just one. The nudes."

At the grim reminder House's face twisted into a frown. "Do we _have _to do those? Can't we just say we did them, then you go away and leave me in peace?"

Chac couldn't help smiling. No matter how irritating House tried to be, it produced the opposite effect in him. He was charmed, much to House's even deeper irritation. "These are simulated nudes, Doctor House, not pornography. They'll be tasteful and sexy - trust me. I know a babe when I see one."

"I don't want my leg in the photos -- and stop calling me that."

House limped slowly back to the car. Chac drove a sleek but roomy two door silver Continental. House eased himself down into the passenger seat. Chac stored his cameras carefully in the trunk. He had taken a wack of pictures of House and his motorcycle up against the hospitals huge cafeteria windows. Sai had put House in snug, cream colored jeans, ankle black boots, a copper colored tee-shirt and a dark long sleeve cotton shirt from House's own closet.

Chac did not want to change the man, just display him an a way few would have ever thought possible. A casual "I haven't been fucked in a while" pose. Legs crossed, right over left (Chac wanted those thighs visible!), House staring off to right and slightly down at the ground, his face neutral, his hand twirling his cane. His left hand supporting his lean against the motorcycle. The shape of the doctors sweet ass obvious against the black seat.

The result, Chac was pleased to see, was an almost accidental sex puppy allure. Chac'd had to wait for precisely the right light for it. He wanted House to be the focus of the picture, isolated against cool evening glass but for a beam of orange sun falling on him and the Honda. He wanted House to appear isolated from everything around him. Alone but for his own reflection turned away in the window behind him. A lone, mysterious figure, but sexually desirable in every way.

And then he drove House to a park a few miles away. A few more outdoor shots were accomplished there. Now it was almost seven o'clock.

"Hungry?" Chac asked as he turned the luxury car into traffic.

House threw him a suspicious sideways glance. "Are you asking me for a date?"

"I want a Porterhouse steak. What's on the menu from your fridge?"

House thought about it and couldn't come up with anything comparable. "Steak's good."

"It's on me."

"It better be. I just spent an entire afternoon humiliating myself. That's worth a Porterhouse, two expensive beers, cheese cake and a ride home."

Chac laughed, but mostly to himself. "So...a _date_ it is."

House ignored that. "What kind of a name is Chac?"

"Latino American -- Mayan to be specific. My mother -- we're of Mayan descent; home town of Ticul – had high hopes for me I think, that's why she named me after a god. But she made a mistake -- Chac is the name of an Inca god, not Mayan. Plus my father was Italian. Explains the last name. The gods be not pleased."

"Why do you take pictures?" House was nothing if not to the point in his questions.

"I like it. Had my own camera as a kid, an old Russian Zenite E with all the accessories. As a hobby, Dad thought it was a bit gay."

"Looks like he was right."

"I like taking pictures. I'm shit hot at it. I'm also gay, and I'm shit hot at that."

"Stop flirting."

Chac searched for the sign of a the Pub where he'd had a near perfect steak dinner a week previous. "I found out that photography is as much an art as anything else. What _you_ do could probably be considered an art."

"Not what I do, just the way I do it."

"How do you do "_**it"**_?"

House smiled a bit at that. "Subtle."

"You seem to appreciate honesty so, yeah, I'm wining and dining you. I'm gay, you're hot, that's why I choose you as my feature. I'm only in New jersey for another month and once this contract is finished I'd really love to _nail_ you a few times before I leave."

"I stand corrected. You're the _queen_ of subtlety."

"Good pun. I hate hypocracy. I could say "Hey, let's do lunch", but you'd see right through that, plus you don't look like the lunch crowd type. So, honestly and without hypocrisy? I'd like to fuck you ten ways from Sunday."

"Isn't there some rule about photographers not sexually harassing their models?"

"Right. Rules are never made to be ignored, but they often are anyway."

House played with his cane tip on the floor. It was true enough. "Where's this steak place?"

XXX

"Okay, take Marilyn Monroe--"

"--Are you trying to bribe me with a dead woman?" House asked in between chews. "'Cause necrophilia's not really my thing." He swallowed. "I am, though, into sheep."

Chac sighed. "_Refer_ to Marilyn Monroe. She was considered one of, if not _the_ most beautiful, sexy women to ever exist."

"Are you comparing me now to a woman? 'Cause that won't help your chances of, as you so delicately put it, "nailing me". What would work, if you're curious, is placing two women in my bed."

"Can I finish?"

"I don't know. Will it be boring?"

Chac was not a man to turn down a challenge. "No." _Interesting_. The Doctor wasn't flirting, but he was allowing himself to be flirted _with_. _There's hope in my commando Levi's_. "Marilyn Monroe was gorgeous. Most people don't know that she had an appendix operation which left a scar on her lower right side."

"Abdomen." House casually corrected.

Chac went on without pause. "When ever men look at that picture, no one notices the scar. No one _cares_ she has a mark. She was beautiful, she was sexy, she was alluring. With or without the scar, she exuded sexuality like a, a...sunburst in the dark."

"They'll notice _my_ scar. Which is not on Marilyn Monroe's golden and perfect abdomen, it's on my pale, hairy maimed thigh. Trust me, they'll notice."

"My point is," Chac was frustrated with House's refusal to look at himself as anything but ordinary. "If I can see the allure, the intense _sex_ in your eyes and body, so will they."

House sipped his beer. Actually it was his fourth pint, and Chac was getting concerned about the glaze in House's sleepy eyes and the slur that had nestled itself into his speech pattern.

The waiter dropped the bill on the table with a passing thank-you. Chac picked it up. "Um, let me go take care of this." He said to his inebriated doctor friend, "and I'll drive you home."

House was busy up-ending his glass and gulping down the last few ounces of the expensive brew. Chac excused himself to the bar to take care of the bill. When he returned House was nowhere to be found. Chac did a quick search in the bar's main area, the sidewalk café section and the men's John. He even peeked into the women's bathroom, receiving a threatening glare from an angry looking female for his trouble.

Chac stepped out into the warm night air, a bit concerned now. He looked up and down the street. No drunk man with a cane. _"Fuck me."_

Chac ran a hand over his clipped curly hair. He'd just misplaced his drunk model. Not knowing what else to do, Chac walked to his car in the rear parking lot. Maybe he could drive around the block and spot his wayward model. Instead he located House trying to pick the lock of his Continental driver's door. Chac deftly snatched the metal tool from House's fingers.

"What _other_ sorts of mischief do you do in your spare time, Mister _Hunt_?"

House tried to grab the lock-picking tool back but Chac was too fast for him. "Oh, no, Doc'. You'll be sitting this one out." He had to steer House to the passenger side and settle him in his seat, tucking his cane in beside him. House fumbled with the seat-belt until Chac leaned over to do it up for him. House smelled like beer and a spicy cologne.

Chac was pretty sure it was Ermenegildo Zegna for Men. _Expensive stuff_. Pricey aftershave to wear for an afternoon of working. And House hadn't shaved. Chac had insisted he keep the two day shadow. It suited his personality and looked damn hot.

Chac was getting comfortable in the driver's seat when House pulled a silver Mickey out of his jacket's inside pocket and twisted the cap off. He threw back a large swallow. Chac could smell it. "Butterscotch Schnapps?"

"Well, they did-n have cheese-scake." House continued to drain the thing and by the time Chac had him home, House was wrecked.

"Oh, god." Chac realised he'd have to help his feature (who at the moment appeared nothing resembling sexy or alluring) inside and settle him in for the night.

He opened the passenger door, released House's seatbelt, hooked his hands under House's armpits and heaved. House was not a lightweight. "What do you eat for dinner normally -- _lead_?!"

Somehow, above his own unceasing mumbling, House heard him. "Only once." He said cryptically. "The guy didn't like me. Got away."

Chac shook his head and concentrated on getting the Doctor inside without incident. Chac managed to make it inside the building and to the apartment door with his heavy cargo. "Thishiz mine plaz-z." House said, pointing to "B".

Chac nodded. "Where's the key?" And to his sorrow, House shrugged.

"Stand still!" Chac growled. House watched him sleepily as he fumbled around in House's pants pockets for his apartment keys. "Hey. No playing hockey down there." House tried to look angry but only managed a lop-sided smirk.

"You're not exactly turning me on, here." Chac was tired too and was pretty much done with wanting House's company for the night.

Chac got the door open and steered House to the leather couch, letting him fall down on his back. He lifted his left leg up on the cushions and left the right one to dangle where it lay. At this point he didn't care if Doctor House went to sleep Snoopy style. _I'm outta here!_

Chac made use of House's bathroom -- he noted the railing on the wall above the bathtub and the non slip rubber mat. Also, several bottles of pills stacked in a row on his mirrored shelf above the sink.

When he returned to the living room, House had shed his jacket and was lying with one arm over his head. He looked asleep but Chac realised he wasn't when he saw House blink.

If anything House appeared, miraculously, slightly more lucid. Actually, he appeared to be in a weird state somewhere between fearful and sad. "I don't want them to see my scar."

Chac wasn't sure he'd even heard him, House had spoken so softly. The intense words, though, bounced back and forth between them. "I'm not going through with it." House added, staring up at the ceiling.

Chac's stomach felt like it was full of rocks and not just because House was backing out and putting the project's completion in question. House's stricken blue eyes put the rocks there.

Chac could see House was scared. Terrified, in fact, of being made a laughing stock. To put himself out there, to be completely exposed and vulnerable...maybe it was asking too much of him.

Until that moment, Chac had not considered how hard this project might be on Doctor House. Cuddy had asked and finally bribed him into doing it. Chac had made him stand out in the sun half the day, on his _feet_. How much pain was he in really?

How much just from the leg? "I'm sorry." Chac offered lamely.

House continued to stare at the ceiling. He didn't even protest when Chac perched beside him on the edge of the couch. "I'm telling you these photos will be stunning. You'll look amazing. You'll be perfect."

"You want to see it?" House asked suddenly, challenging him. "You want to see what your customers will see? What Cuddy and everyone I work with will see? What my parents will see? And my ex-girlfriends new husband?"

House -- in a motion so quick Chac forgot that ten minutes ago the man had been falling down drunk -- unzipped, lifted his hips and slipped his jeans below his knees.

Chac looked.

Yes, the scar was ugly. It was A mish mash of wasted and muscle remnant, puckered skin and a long, red undulating slash flanked by a pattern of white even dots where the stitches had held the wound together. It was an old scar and had settled into it's final appearance, already faded all it was going to fade and receding into House's wasted flesh all it was going to recede.

The rest of the man was...Chac couldn't help but let his eyes wander over House's other muscled thigh and developed calves, the very nice shapes beneath his boxers, the fine sprinkling of hair that ran up his stomach to end just above his nipples. his sloping shoulders and biceps to die for. And that goddamn fucking sultry, masculine, amazing face.

All Chac could think of was..."Marilyn Monroe." He said. "Except _Gregory House_."

House searched his face, searching for the bull shit.

"I'm sorry." Chac said. "I don't see anything wrong."

House sighed and pulled his jeans back up.

Chac stood and walked to the door. "You'll come to the studio tomorrow?"

House fell back on the couch, sighing wearily. "Yeah. I'll come to the goddamn studio."

XXX

Click Baby Click -- Part III coming soon!

(Also coming soon: Part IV of Dexter in the House.)


	3. Chapter 3

CLICK, BABY, CLICK!

--

Part III

By GeeLady

Summary: Cuddy needs to raise funds. A hospital Christmas calender is the solution! Sexy pictures of Plainsborough's sexy Doctors. Guess who Chac the photographer wants to make the special "centerfold" feature?

Rating: M. Adult. NC-17 Pre-Slash, Slash, language.

Pairing: House/Other (Chac)

Disclaimer: I manipulate the sexy House and others to my hearts content. No fee's, no earnings,...just fun!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Doctor House merged from the studio bathroom wearing nothing but a towel around his waist and an expression on his face that said he'd prefer to be on the other side of the planet.

Chac noted his discomfort and gave him some time and space to settle himself on the table. This was the trickiest time. House needed to be handled with fur-covered kid gloves. Entice, capture his mind, capture his soul. Once he did that, those bodiless things that made up the most substantial part of anyone - their mind and heart -- would then make his body, his eyes and persona, transform before the lense. The camera would become his lover.

House stared at the simple set-up Chac had arranged. A thin mattress three feet off the floor draped with soft charcoal colored satin sheet with the same color for a backdrop. "That's it?"

Chac smiled to himself. "No, just for the final shot. We get that done first, you'll be out of your misery and then we can finish the others. It'll help you relax. The horrible final nude will be behind you."

"Looks like I should be a bowl of fruit."

"These may be still shots but they are not still life. There's nothing lifeless about you, Doctor House, or my photography."

House perched himself on the table, letting his legs dangle, stiffly crossing his arms. "What's so different about it? Soft porn is still porn."

Chac frowned. It wasn't the first time people assumed as much about his work prior to actually seeing it. "These are not porn!" He said, adjusting the tripod a little more violently than necessary. "You want to see porn? You want to see bullshit? Look at the crap stacked on the magazine racks behind the counters. Silicon stuff ed, plastic-altered bodies shot with soft focus lenses and always - _always_ - the goddamn phony "fuck-me" pasted-on pout. Pathetic, pantomime _shit_!

"Did you know they use computer programs to erase every blemish they think is distracting? And then they _add _fake ones. Boobs are enlarged, dicks are lengthened. They have artificially tanned skin with artificial shine. Fake eyelashes. Fake lips for Chris-sake! Even the teeth are whitened and enhanced. People presented as nameless, faceless, uninteresting, modules that hardly look alive in my opinion. Everything about them is geared to incite sexual arousal yet not one fucking thing about them is sexy. Or beautiful. That's not art, it's..._fart_!"

House looked a trifle abashed. "Didn't mean to offend your specialty."

"Look, Doctor House. Whatever you may think of me, I'm basically the best there is at my profession. Trust me that I'm not going to make you look awful. I didn't come to New Jersey to trash my career. I'd actually like to make money from this project."

House looked away and nodded once. "Fine."

Chac busied his hands with lenses and lighting. House, he knew, had hated this entire project. But House had worked with him and had tried his best. Chac suspected House wanted it to go well for his boss whom he did not hate. In fact, Chac thought there might be long ties between the two. Personal ties from the past.

Sai, no clothes to arrange on House, had gone home. Michele was wrapping up things at the hospital, gathering short Bio's on all participants.

Chac was alone with his favorite subject and approached House very casually. Having in mind how he wanted House to feel and react, he asked, "Ever had sex with a man before?"

House looked at him sharply, but a tiny smile twitched one corner of his mouth. "Are you flirting again?"

"Yes I am." Chac smiled back. "But don't worry, I'm here to photograph that lovely face and body, not jump your bones. Lie back."

House complied, laying flat on the hard table. Chac knew he had to make this go quickly due to Doctor House's painful leg that might not allow them much time without cramping up.

The pictures he had captured the previous three days working with House were fantastic. He'd been right in his choice. But it hadn't been easy.

For the motorcycle picture, the exterior after the rain shot, he had tweaked House's mind on his younger days of riding and then his later days of being unable to ride while healing from his painfully maimed leg.

The result was a wonderful whole body physical pose of "hurt-sad-crippled-but-still-so-sexy". Chac had studied the negatives for many minutes and the damn picture made his heart ache, (and his dick twitch), to look at it.

He had photographed House in an operating room, a head/shoulder shot, House in a dark blue hospital wrap, one arm above his head, eyes straight into the camera lense. Chac had asked House about the choice he had made -- to keep the leg. Did he regret it at all?

Those irises had looked into the camera and like blue coals hot with sorrow, burned a hole in it. They spoke of tragic injury yet, from somewhere very deep, strength drawn up to endure it. And House had not even answered the question.

House had turned out to be what Chac had known since first resting his eyes on him. The man was a silent movie of human emotion.

The more candid photo's of House at work, with his team or sitting alone in his chair, the close-up forehead resting on the handle of his cane, deep in thought over a patient, mystery symptoms written on the ghostly white board before him, the room in half shadow, and a small curtain of light falling across House's closed eyes and his expression of intense concentration...all to capture the mind behind the angled handsome face.

Incredibly compelling.

But these final shots...Chac wanted House to become an object of erotica. Imperfect, human, vulnerable, beautiful erotica.

He wanted the final print to have the look of something unintentional. As though someone had accidently snapped a shutter, without realizing it, casually captured a once in a lifetime shot of the sexiest man ever encountered. A man just lying on a bed who had turned his head just as the shutter had activated. Or who had stretched his weary body and bent his leg just prior to the intrusion, the witness having missed seeing his most secret and sexiest parts..._too bad..._

Such casual appearances, though, took correct lighting and angles. Needed, in fact, very careful choreography.

Chac, without touching him at all, indicated how he wanted House to lie. "I'd like you to lay back, with your left leg bent at the hip and knee. No one's going to see anything beyond bare skin. Just relax like you were lying on your bed on vacation in a place you've been and loved. Or where you'd love to go...is there a place?" Chac wanted House's mind _there._

House for a few minutes didn't answer and Chac thought he couldn't think of a place or--

"-- after medical school, I met a woman when I got my first fellowship at Boston General. Audria was from Serbia. Gorgeous brunette, broken English. She was taking nursing. We met at a party and hooked up, at least I hoped we were going to hook up. And we made a date for later that night to meet for drinks. Party ended, everyone paired off and I went to find her...and she was already leaving with another guy."

"That isn't really a place, I was thinking more-"

"--You want my _mind_ somewhere sexy, right?" House stretched his hands above his head and arched his neck until his throat was exposed and --

"--fuck!" Chac blurted. "Hold that pose." Chac scrambled to get his camera setting where he wanted them.

Chac moved behind his camera. "Now remove the towel." At House's slight hesitation, Chac assured, "Don't worry, no one will see anything but that incredible thigh and ass. Not even me. Good. Now lay your left hand on your abdomen and stretch your other arm over your head, way over, lift your chin more, like you need to stretch, I want to see lots of throat. That's what I want everyone to see. Hang on-" He snapped a few shots.

"Fuck _me_, that's hot." Chac said softly continuing to snap pictures. "I want them to see that jaw line." Chac whispered, almost to himself, as he change lenses, focus, lighting here and there until he had House's body from the tip of his mile long thigh to the just above the jaw line. It was angles and curves and skin and soft hair diffused with golden light from behind. It was shadows to tease and illumination to offer; to bring out everything he knew would be there. Before House had shed a stitch of clothing.

It didn't matter that House was nearly fifty or that he wasn't built like a brick shit house, or that he didn't have washboard abs and shaved, oiled plastic skin. What House did have was masculine and sexy, and something that Chac could throw the perfect kind of light on and make the doctor seem relentlessly, forbiddenly sexual.

It was long muscles in a masterpiece thigh, an expanse of chest with fine soft hair, a prominent Adams's apple covered with what made men _men _-- chin whiskers (which on House was erotic all by itself.)

"Hang on." Chac said and walked over to House with a fine toothed comb in his hand. "Don't move." He took the comb and raked it through House's body hair starting from his navel and working toward his nipples. "I just want to make it stand up a little more. I want it with the light shining through. I want men and women to wish they could rake their fingers over it and make you shiver."

Chac returned to his camera and checked the effect. _Yeah_. Fuller, softer hair. "Mmmm, that's delicious." He kept the camera shutter going, again and again, as he spoke. "Oh, yeah, _gorgeous_. Absolutely luscious. Take deep slow breaths." But Chac was curious. "Why did a story of rejection make you feel sexy?" He finished and began to change lenses again.

House was still posed. "Can I relax now?"

"Sorry, yeah. Go ahead."

House sat up, laying the towel back across his pelvis. "It didn't. Thinking of her made me feel young. She was fun. And incredibly beautiful and she liked me. Well, until the walking after-shave commercial came along."

Chac assumed some beefy guy with a dimpled chin had swept the lady away. But the memory had made House feel young and that's why he had instantly looked...fresher, living -- _new_ in the camera -- hot, yummy and quintessentially fuckable. It was so much man, so much lense, so much lighting, so much shading and so much attitude. All of it together equaled human body art. three dimensions taken to four. The photo and what people inferred from the photo. The emotions that surfaced and the feeling of unexpected warmth and arousal they then took away with them.

"She was an idiot." Chac said in all seriousness.

House smiled, shaking his head.

"Need a break?" He asked as House absently ran his right hand over his scarred thigh while Chac changed lenses again.

House nodded, wrapped the towel around himself again and eased himself off the mattress. "Got anything to drink?"

Chac pointed to a small beer fridge he had set up in the office. "Help yourself."

House returned with a cold one for himself and one for Chac. "Thanks." Chac twisted the cap off and took a refreshing swig. "Nothing like beer on a rainy day."

House sat on the ever present stool. Chac had left it there on purpose. He liked to watch Doctor House sit on it. It gave him a front row view of the best man legs he had seen in years. They were not the heaviest muscled or smoothly waxed (like so many models did now-a-days), or even tanned. But they were the most perfectly proportioned in relation to their host's body he had ever encountered. Male but beautiful. Muscled but not bulging. Enough hair to register as manly but not so much as to suggest beast.

Perfect length too. Chac would like to have _sucked_ on them, if only House was willing.

By the time House finished his beer, Chac had changed the set and a high backed, armless chair was where the table had been. The seat was metal. A cool stainless steel thing one would expect to see in a doctor's waiting room or a hospital laboratory.

"Good news, Doc'. This is the last simulated nude set."

House sat in the chair, waiting for Chac's instructions. Through-out this last day he had relaxed a great deal. Chac was glad for that because it made his job easier. But for this last shot he needed...he wanted people to see what he himself saw in House. Disability made erotic and sexy. Not pitiful, not something to shake one's head over or think "tsk, tsk". But something as part of a complete sexual and beautiful being.

House was an injured man, yes, but an gorgeous, sexy one that made his cock ache. And if it made his cock ache...

The scar, the disability presented as part of, and as natural a part of him, as were his hypnotic eyes, delicious arms, rough kissable jaw line, eatable legs and all those other hidden parts that every customer would then imagine and wish were as visible.

House, as were all his subjects, was to be art in human form, but human in every way. And perfect in the only ways that mattered. It was subjective. It took an artists mind's eye to bring to light the substance. To make them see what he saw. The hot-sex Chac saw when he looked at House. What he saw that first moment in Cuddy's office.

Chac smiled at House through the camera. "You're gonna' knock 'em dead, Doctor House." Chac murmured as he set up for the next series of shots. "You're going to give them palpitations, the sweats, hard on's...you're my best project this year, seriously. The sexy doc' of New Jersey. After this, you'll have to fight off the ladies."

_And quite possibly me too._

XXX

House seated himself in the hard chair, it's chill sending little goose bumps up his spine. "What do you want me to do?" He sounded fed up.

Chac realised House was tired and probably sore.

House looked at his arms and complained. "I look like a bleached out fish. I haven't been on a beach in ten years."

"Doesn't matter. This is going to be a black and white. Except for those brilliant blue eyes."

"Where do I put my cane?"

"Just hold on to it for now." Chac answered after a second or two. His mind was thinking over the shot he wanted. House was upset that his scar would be in the picture. "Keep your knees at a ninety degree angle, bend at the waist and wrap your right arm under your thighs."

House obeyed and his right upper arm came to rest in its assigned position, obscuring the majority of the worst of the scar.

Chac had decided on it the night before. He did not want the scar to be the center of the picture, not the thing that drew in the eyes of the viewers. He wanted it to be seen as just another part of House's anatomy. Maybe not a part anyone would choose to have, certainly not one House had wanted, but now a part of him. Central to the man, and crucial to the layout of the whole shoot; of its meaning. Whole and sexy. Disabled and sexy. Of the two physical states it was to be made clear that there was no difference at all.

House's injury, his limp, his cane and even his pain was essential to his personality. All were members of him just as surely as his lovely legs, gravely voice, incredible mind or perfectly breathtaking eyes.

"Turn your head only and look at me. Um, but rest your cheek on your right leg."

House frowned. "This is not comfortable."

Chac walked over to him, taking his head gently in his hands and tilting it just so. "I want kind of a half cheek, half chin pose." Chac adjusted a bit. "As though you're looking at something on the floor, but I want those eyes directly on the camera lense."

House did his best to obey.

Chac stepped back. "Good. That's good." He stepped forward and took House's cane from his hand, laying it in an upright, slightly titled angle against his right thigh. "Keep your right arm where it is but bring your left arm over your legs, across them and take the cane in your hand."

"This is even more uncomfortable."

Again Chac adjusted the cane a bit so the hook was resting sideways just below Houses chin.

Chac practically sprinted back to his camera. "Good. Look directly into the camera."

Chac took some preliminary shots, but something was not quite right in the eyes. House was tired, in pain and wanted it all to end. That was not the attitude Chac needed for the central shot of his feature.

What he wanted was..."Are you in love with anyone?"

Houses eyes left the lense for Chac. "Are you trying to engage my mind or ask me for my hand?"

"First, yes. Second,..." Chac didn't answer at first, just smiled. "Look back at the camera." Chac studied the view. "What can I say? Gorgeous guys with canes turn me on. Are you gong to answer?"

House frowned. "I'm thinking."

"You can't be if you're thinking about it."

"I'm thinking whether or not _to_ answer."

"So you're not? And stop frowning."

House obeyed and tried to smooth out his forehead.

"Stop trying to pose and just be." Chac advised. "You're sexiest that way. You look good that way."

House sighed. "No. I'm not in love with anyone."

"Is there anyone you'd like to be in love with?"

Chac saw Houses expression turn inward and, all at once, turn outward, toward the faces behind the camera, beyond the photograph they would hold in their hands later.

God _- that_ was the look! Chac let the shutter roll continuously as House spent those precious few seconds being honest with himself. He didn't open his mouth, he didn't have to. Houses eyes, those goddamn beautiful things stared through the lense, passed the mirrors and internal mechanics of the camera, through Chac's heart and entered his soul like a pair of darts.

_Fuck me._ To Chac, the expression said _"I want that so much -- I need it. And I've been looking, but so far..."_

Chac let the shutter cycle again and again until he was out of film.

Chac left the lense view for the real thing. House was sitting, staring off into space, having momentarily forgotten all about the reason he was sitting there.

"We're done, Doctor House. You can get dressed."

House snapped out of it and stretched, rubbed at his thigh trying to hide how much it was hurting. He wrapped the towel around his waist and went in search of his back pack.

As Chac rewound his film, he watched House fish for and find his bottle of pain killers, popping a couple. Then House slipped into his jeans and tee-shirt, forgoing his over-shirt, and finally his leather jacket.

Unsurprisingly, House looked like he was about to leave without so much as a fare-thee-well. Until Chac called him back and walked over to him. He smiled to himself at Houses facial groan and eye roll.

Chac stuck out his hand. "Thanks for all your hard work."

House took his hand and shook it once. "You're welcome. Glad it's done." But he did nod with something akin to mannerly.

Chac did not release his hand. "I'd like to ask for one more favor, Doctor House."

House stared and Chac saw the weariness leap into his eyes and the crinkle of annoyance between his brows. "I know I'm going to regret this but, what?"

Chac stepped closer. He wanted to invade Houses personal space and throw him off balance again. Just one more time, just enough..."I'd like to kiss you goodbye."

House froze on the spot, staring at Chac. "Why?"

_Interesting._ Not an outright "no", but a question. _He wants to know my motive. He wants to know more about me but he wants to learn it bit by bit, like I'm a mysterious illness and he worried he just might be infected. Fuck, is that sexy! _"Because I want to taste you."

House stared back for a few seconds and Chac could all but see through Houses skull into his brain that was chewing it over. Probably trying to diagnose me. Am I really just wanting to satisfy my curiosity before saying goodbye or am I trying to get into his pants? And will he let me?

"Are you going to tongue me?"

_Still not an outright "no". Even more sexy_. "Maybe."

House dropped his backpack on the floor. "Ten seconds, no cuddling."

About seven seconds more than he figured he'd get. "Deal."

Chac stepped forward and House, trying to act casual but failing miserably, dropped his eyes down a little as if to avert anything for the next few seconds that smacked of emotion or the thought that Chac was positive was rolling around in Houses head: "I'm letting a gay man kiss me. What does that say about _me_?"

Chac stepped as close as he dare, just short of pressing his body against Houses, though his pelvis ached to do so. He smiled just a bit and took Houses lips with his own, open mouthed, gentle, tender, and Chac couldn't help himself, his tongue darted inside for just a second or two.

House tasted fine.

_He didn't reject the tongue. This just gets curious-er and curious-er._

Chac reluctantly let him go. He was secretly delighted to see a hint of blush on Houses cheeks.

Chac all but licked his lips. "Nice."

He turned away._ Don't give House any more. _Chac knew if House was interested or even mildly curious, he'd be back. "See you, Greg."

House only nodded this time, picked up his backpack and limped through the door.

XXX

(Fourth and final part coming soon)


	4. Chapter 4

CLICK, BABY, CLICK!

--

Part IV

By GeeLady

Summary: Cuddy needs to raise funds. A hospital Christmas calender is the solution! Sexy pictures of Plainsborough's sexy Doctors. Guess who Chac the photographer wants to make the special "centerfold" feature?

Rating: M. Adult. NC-17 Pre-Slash, Slash, language.

Pairing: House/Other (Chac)

Disclaimer: I manipulate the sexy House and others to my hearts content. No fee's, no earnings,...just fun!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Chac's cellular rang. He flipped it open, shedding his clothes at the same time. "Hello?"

"Did you wrap up today?" It was Sai.

"Yeah, all done."

"Good, I wanted to make sure 'cause I'm driving to Tracy's tomorrow."

Tracy was Sai''s boyfriend. He lived in Manhattan.

"Um. Yeah. The pictures are terrific. You were spot on for the clothing and sets as usual. Doctor Sexy looked hot."

"So. What'll it be for you two? The Bang-Bang room?"

Sai was referring to Chac's tiny single bed he kept in a storage closet or behind a portable partition (depending on the accommodations of the temporary facilities he rented) where ever he happened to be shooting. It was easier when he was busy developing half the night to just flop at the office, than drive home or back to the hotel or friend's apartment or where ever he was staying at the time.

"No. No Bang-Bang room. And no bang-bang either. Doctor House went home."

"Really? Poor Chac. It's not often you waste a mattress like that."

"Well, not if they're gay models who are so horny after a shoot, they'll sleep with a water-wing. Doctor House is different. Hetero', for one." Some models, some of the single ones anyway, were often only too happy to hop in the sack for a de-stressing quickie. Chac didn't want to do House and then roll over. Not with House. House wasn't a quick chocolate treat you unwrapped, chewed and swallowed. He was a triple layer, mocha-fudge and real bean vanilla cream icing cheese cake imported from some exotic locale'.

You just didn't gobble those, you slowly consumed them, knowing it might be the only time in your life you get to taste it.

Over the phone, Sai heard the disappointment in Chac's voice. "I think you're in love."

Chac smiled. "Maybe just a little. Have fun with Tracy."

"You know I will." On that note, Sai ended the call.

Chac showered, dried himself off and slipped into some snug designer jeans and a black silk shirt. Sai was off to New York, Michele would cross the T's and dot the I's with Cuddy. The calendar was done. His part was finished. If the printers fucked it up from here, that would be a disappointment but it had little to do with him.

Chac sighed. His smoldering feature had gone home too and he was quite let down about it. But he still wanted some company before going home the day after tomorrow and New Jersey had a few bars that catered to his particular taste in companionship. Chac exited the eight story office building. He would hail a taxi because he intended to drink that night. Work done. Hello fun.

Nearby he heard the rattle and stall of a small engine. A motorcycle was struggling and failing to catch. He looked around with passing curiosity and caught sight of the noisy beast. And the enticing beast atop it.

Doctor House was astride a black Honda with an orange badly scraped front spoiler. He was busy trying to kick start the machine with his shapely left leg and having no success.

House switched off the Honda and withdrew the key with a few well thought out curses. He did not notice Chac's approach until Chac asked, "Trouble?"

House looked up, then back down at his beloved bike in frustration. "Won't start."

Chac nodded. He knew nothing about motorbikes. "I'm cabbing it to a bar," he lied. Actually he was tired and had intended to find a bar-hopping someone for a few hours of nookie then sleep for twenty-four hours but if there was a chance... "I can have the cabbie drop you home on the way."

House carefully lifted his right leg over the seat and un-strapped his back pack. "Thanks."

The cabbie passed the restaurant their one dinner out and Chac decided to act on impulse. "Dinner?" He asked. "I'd like to thank you for shooting you."

"Where have I heard that before?" House realized the joking reference to his attempted murder was lost on Chac and just shrugged. "Sure."

Chac knew what the shrug meant. House was not in every way _un_-interested. Chac dropped a twenty onto the cab driver's seat. "Drop us here."

This time Chac selected a far more private table. The place was almost deserted as most dinner patrons had finished their meal and paraded to the local pubs for desserts of the liquid persuasion. Quiet, candle lit steak houses with elevator music did not suite the typically young, late Friday night crowds.

"You got a..."partner"?" House asked pointedly. "That is what gays call each other, right?"

Chac nodded. Encouraging first question. "Unless we're married to each other, then it's "husband" or "wife", depending on the homo-persuasion."

House sipped his whiskey neat. Chac smelled then sniffed a very expensive bottle of imported beer. "You? You and Doctor Wilson an item or Cuddy maybe? Or both?"

House sniffed a tiny laugh. "No one right now."

Chac was surprised and then not. House, as sexy as he was, was a serrated edged, sharp witted guy. He did not let people get too close and then if he did, never all the way in. "Why are you so afraid of intimacy?" Chac knew how to ask point-blank questions too.

"I'm not." House looked appreciatively at his medium rare steak and lobster that had just arrived. Chac had ordered the tandoori chicken and salad. "Being cautious isn't the same thing as being scared." House sliced a juicy piece, stuck it in his mouth and chewed. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Are we planning...intimacy?" Chac asked.

House didn't answer. Chac tried a different approach. "What do you think of sex between two men?"

"Haven't much thought about it."

"So you're here to learn like you're a student in a classroom and I'm the teacher with the chalk in my hand? Or were you hoping for a far more personal lesson?"

"There's nothing you can teach me about sex that I don't already know."

"Oh? So you _have_ had sex with a man?"

"No. But I know what everything is, what it does and the orifices it can be shoved into. I'm a doctor. We kinda had to learn that stuff."

Chac shook his head. "You know "what of" it can do. That's like knowing what a plate of East Indian Tyfe smells and tastes like because you've seen the recipe."

House temporarily left his steak for his buttery lobster. "Why me?"

Chac took a second to catch up to the sudden change in subject. "Because you have a smoldering sexuality that I knew would filter through the camera like water through a fishing net. And personally, you've got thighs I dream of sucking on. And because of a few other tasty looking parts I could mention."

"I'm twice your age."

"Sex is all in the mind."

"No, I think it's mostly in the pants."

Chac smiled. House had no idea how charming his crude but witty way was. Right now Chac's penis was charmed also, tucked away in his designer jeans. "Perhaps. But all I've been able to do for days is fantasize about going down on you in the shower, deep throating you for hours and fucking you cross-eyed."

House finished the lobster and abandoned the last portion of his steak. He did not like to feel stuffed. "That line ever work on anyone?"

"Occasionally."

Houses cellular bleeped loudly for attention. He answered it rudely. "What?"

For weeks House had been in Chac's world of cameras, lenses, lighting and sets. Now Chac was delighted to watch and listen while House immersed himself for a moment in the doctoring world.

House listened to the other voice, then respond with an amalgamation of sarcastic words, screwed up features, eye rolls and a joke or two at his subordinates expense.

Hearing House argue, toss around medical and largely incomprehensible phrases, chew out his employee and order up a six course set of equally incomprehensible tests, all in the space of about ninety seconds, left Chac a bit light-headed. It was like watching a maestro commanding a group of talented but unruly musicians who all agreed that his antics were exaggerated and annoying, but none denying his genius.

After House impatiently snapped his phone shut, Chac took a deep breath like a diver coming up for air, "That was _totally_ hot."

House rolled his eyes at him and Chac laughed, his excitement over his dinner date and how it just might, if he played his cards right, end charged his senses. Chac could feel himself inside the man already, his dick as hard as marble and House moaning and begging... Chac shook off the image. Best to concentrate. But now he was tingling all over. "How many people under you?" (For a micro-second Chac amused himself, letting _that_ image roll around in his mind).

"Three and one who's sort of beside me, but put there by the hand of a witch."

"All just employees? Not friends too?"

"Why?"

"I'm curious. There must be another person in that hospital who thinks you're as unique and sexy as I do? They can't all be morons."

"Wanna' bet?" House sipped a beer. "Yes, I have friends." He surprised himself to say it. And to come to recognize it as well. He felt the need to do up a quick mental check list to see if that was circling anywhere near the truth or if it was just his imagination running wild.

Wilson of course (best friend). Cuddy (boss/friend/antagonist). Cameron (gooey-eyed as ever but yes, a friend), and even Chase (House was shocked to admit it to himself that he was indeed somewhat fond of the wallaby).

Foreman? _Let's not go __**nuts!**_

"Where's your parents?"

"Why is this turning into an interview?"

_Whoops_. Chac backed off on the personal questions. House was right. They weren't an item and unlikely to ever become such. A few hours of fucking didn't mean they were MFEO. If they ever got to the fucking part.

House's irritation quickly dissipated. "My turn."

Chac waved a hand, opening the floor to his dinner guest.

House crossed his arms. "When did you decide that pictures of Jarred-types beat out fit Fabio-clones?"

That was easy. "Ever looked at a mannequin and gotten a hard on?"

"Will you still respect me if I plead the Fifth?"

Chac laughed a little. "No, come on - seriously. That's what I see when I look at any typical skin rag. Plastic bodies, posed with plastic smiles, teeth, hair... Shaved, oiled, made all-over perfect in every physical way. It's like being in Joan Crawford's house, where you're afraid to sit on the furniture."

Chac nibbled at his salad and gestured with a crouton as he spoke. "How do you notice what's genuinely and humanly perfect and beautiful when everything is? When the models are manufactured with all the originality and uniqueness of a factory Barbie? Why isn't a mole or hair - or a _scar_ - considered part of the picture of being imperfectly beautiful? What is sensuality if not vulnerability?"

"What is vulnerability if not imperfection?" House turned it around. "Vulnerability is sensuality to you? To me it's being hurt."

Chac paused at that. "Well, if we take the heart into it, I concede your point. But speaking in the terms of purely physical beauty, the crap offered in those magazines isn't sensual or even sexy. What's attainable about the unreal? Therefor if it doesn't exist, should we try to achieve it? What value is there in fakery? What's enticing about it? It's nothing but a shit-load of lies. It's insulting to physical humanity."

House mulled it over, and nodded in a manner of half an agreement. "You lonely?"

The dramatic changes from humor to irritation to professional curiosity to so personal a question were keeping Chac off balance. This last one was so unexpected that he stopped chewing for a second. House was staring down at the exo-skeleton remnants of his lobster, not ready to lift his eyes and admit that he had just open a door into his very private soul for a near stranger. Chac was charmed. And felt rather privileged, actually. Chac was seeing - a tiny peek - at a side of Gregory House few people ever saw.

Chac stared across the table at House who ran an uncomfortable hand down his face then looked back. Houses blue, naked eyes reminded Chac of a man drowning. And waiting.

_Jesus_. Chac realized he was actually seeing part of House _uncovered_. "Probably no less than you." Chac's heart thumped in his chest. "Whadda' say? A couple nights where we can be less lonely than usual?"

House didn't speak for a few seconds either. Then, very softly - almost un-spoken if not for the wary word sounds that managed to wiggle from his lips and just touch Chac's ears like a wee puff of air - "I'm not looking for an LTR."

Chac nodded in easy agreement. He would agree to damn near anything to get the man between the sheets. "Me neither. Not at this point in my life. I like you, Greg. I want to spend a few hours with you. I want to kiss your mouth and fuck your body. Now, do you want to do that?" Chac asked plainly. "Because I'm not suggesting a walk on the beach or candy hearts under a silver moon."

House threw a nod in the direction of the kitchen's swinging doors. "Pay the bill."

XXX

"Photography pays well." House remarked as Chad lead him into a very modern, tastefully decorated downtown apartment.

"This belongs to a friend of mine, actually. He's in Japan doing a major tour."

"Rock star?"

"Model."

"Boyfriend?"

"Good friend with occasional benefits."

"How do you decide which nights are friend or fuck?"

Chac lead them into his friends _Sunset and Silver _kitchen. "We have a pissing contest." Chac gave as good as he got.

House perched on a high padded bar stool, resting his cane against the breakfast island. He looked around. "Anything to drink?"

Chac was already pulling a long bottle of ice wine from the fridge. "Wine?"

"Only when I don't get my way." House said and popped a pill.

"Ugh." to the joke. "What are those?" Chac had been curious about House's obvious drug habit.

"Tic Tacs."

"Fine. I'll mind my own business." Chac, declining the usual clinking of glasses which he didn't think House would fancy. House didn't notice anyway and took a long drink of his. "Are you sure you want to be here?" Asked Chac. "'Cause I'm getting the vibe you've changed your mind."

House actually had enough manners to look contrite. "Sorry." He looked at Chac and casually around at the kitchen, apartment and situation, "I don't normally...do..."

Chac guessed correctly. "...Gay one night stands? Me neither."

"I thought--"

"--I know. Most Hetero's do. They think we're all running around fucking each other not only in our homes and the occasional club but in back alleys, our car's, other's people bathrooms,...anywhere we have room to stand."

Chac poured them each another glass. "Let me ask you something." He sat on a second stool beside House. "Why is a doctor -- a famous doctor -- who is obviously loaded with charisma and brains, a good looking man with a seasoned but still very sexy bod' _not_ have a girlfriend and is instead out on his first date with his gay photographer? Is about in fact to have sex with that gay photographer?"

House looked steadily at him. Chac found it impossible to guess what was in his lover-to-be's mind.

House swirled the wine around in the glass. "I haven't had sex with anyone that I haven't paid for in a long time."

Chac found that hard to believe. "You use an escort service?"

House was clearly a little embarrassed about it. "You may find the alcoholic, drug addicted, scarred doc' do-able, but trust me, not all find the combination sexually appealing."

"But it seemed to me you and Doctor Cuddy--"

"--I've asked her out twice. She turned me down twice."

"What about Wilson?"

"_Wilson?"_

"If you're heading into the sack with me, he must have crossed your mind at least once."

House gave the man due respect for his insight. "Once or twice over the years..." House drained his glass. "Wilson's into women. Married three times. Now he's with another. Pure "AC"."

"No one is. Everyone, if they haven't considered trying it, has at least once let the curiosity or fantasy enter their mind. It explains why you're here."

"You being very interested in _me_ and me badly needing a _lay_ is why I'm here."

"Mmm, we'll see." The wine was having its effect of a little buzz across Chac's senses.

"What does "we'll see" mean?" House asked.

But Chac was watching Houses lips move as he spoke and the heat began to rise. Chac finished his glass, placed it on the counter and leaned over put his mouth within reach of Houses. "Wilson _has_ thought of it. You can count on that." He let his lips touch the doctor's, knowing House would be stiff and uncomfortable at first. Virgins always are.

Chac stood, allowing all of his six foot one loom over House who was still seated. He changed his position until he had House leaning back against the counter and began to kiss him deeply, moving his lips and tongue from one side of Houses mouth to the other, allowing his hands an early exploration of the body he had visually hungered after for weeks.

With his left fingers he opened Houses shirt one button at a time, wishing House hadn't reverted so soon to covering himself back up with an under tee-shirt. But that would peel off easily enough.

Instead Chac let his fingers walk of their own accord down the front of Houses pants and rub the bulge there a little with the back of his hand. Chac let out an involuntary moan of pleasure at the thought of what lay beneath. With practiced dexterity, he popped open the metal snap on Houses jeans and quickly unzipped his fly, all the while keeping Houses lips and mind otherwise occupied.

Chac murmured into House's hot mouth. "I want you in the shower."

House pulled back from Chac's demanding lips. "I don't do standing very well."

With one hand on the small of his back, Chac encouraged House to step off the stool and follow him to the bathroom. "You won't be."

Chac took especial delight in stripping the clothes of House and showing him the raised seat that was a molded part of the shower surround. "You can sit and relax and let me do all the dirty stuff."

A naked House shivered in the cool bathroom. "Good thing we're taking a shower then."

With one hand Chac turned on the water, checked the stream's temperature with his fingers, flipped the toggle to shower position and warm spray cascaded over House seated on the molded seat. "What are we going to do?"

Chac had all kinds of ideas and leaned over to reach House's lips.

His first thought was clamping his mouth onto House's and kissing him deeply and thoroughly for a very long time, all the while exploring the nude flesh under his fingertips. Every so often he looked down at the whole naked man, from House's collar bones to his navel to his cock, the marvelous thighs, toned calves and then slowly all the way back up. Chac wanted his eyes to enjoy themselves too.

Then he did what he been dreaming about for weeks. He kneeled and took House's hardening cock in his mouth and sucked it down like a popsicle, as deep as he could, tilting his head slightly so he wouldn't gag. It was a trick he had learned during his first gay relationship. Tilt and no gag. Tilt and you can take the whole gorgeous thing in your mouth. Deep throat your lover and he'll go mad for you.

House moaned a little. Chac was pleased that, though House was trying not to let it be known, he was liking Chac kneeling in front of him in the shower and sucking him off hell bent for leather.

Chac was enjoying it too. He licked the head of House's cock, flicking his tongue across the slit quickly, delicately, until he saw pre-cum and then swallowed again, right to the hilt. Chac painstakingly moved his lips down and back up, letting the cock slide almost all the way out with as much suction as he could stand, then he slowly took it all in again. Over and over and over, like House's cock was a Tootsie-pop and he had not eaten one since he was nine.

House was soon babbling like a infant, and begging him to finish. He was Alex in Gay Wonderland. "Oh,...f-f-fuck,..._please_..."

Chac sped up his oral magic until House bucked and emptied down Chac's throat.

Chac watched House as he took his cock, _very gently_, in his fingers and encouraged some final spasms of pleasure. Until House actually reached out and stilled the hand, collapsing forward, his head on Chac's shoulder, his whole body limp with release.

Once House's thoughts corralled together in one place again, he raised his head and looked at Chac with, Chac was charmed to see, a mix of surprised delight and shyness.

Vocal, confrontational, rude, stinking with confidence Doctor House _shy _in the bed room. Or in this case the shower. Chac found it emotionally appealing and sexy in every way_. "Fuck,_ you turn me on."

They dried off, Chac lead House to the bedroom and ordered room service. Some sweets and drinks would be good. They had plenty of time, the night was young and Chac was plump with ideas.

-

-

-

Somewhere around one in the morning House's cellular trilled for his attention, above Chac's protests, he answered it. "Sorry. More doctor stuff." House wrapped a sheet around himself and walked into the sitting area.

Waiting patiently in the bedroom, Chac heard words, some he understood and some he had no idea as to their meaning..."sark-oyd-oh'-sis" (no clue) and "Cat scan" (one he recognized), "Blood-gas test" (clear enough) but "fer-eef-sis" - (another unknown). "Run cultures then!" House next barked into the phone and then mouthed a long string of consonants that Chac had no hope of getting his tongue around that sounded something like: "Pred-niz-o-lone and hi-drox-ee-klor-o-quin-ee to treat the gran-you-low-maz and an imm-you-no-suppressant.". House was quiet for a second or two, then, "We're not trying to tank her immunities, we're trying to keep her alive! If she codes, it'll be temporary. It's like camping on a rainy weekend, she'll come right back."

If he ever got really sick, Chac wasn't sure he'd want House as his personal physician. But then everyone thought what _he_ did was shoot porn. But one thing was for goddamn sure - listening to Greg House twist his mouth around all that medical shit was making his cock hard as fucking granite.

House's final biting order was "Use my-so-fen-o-late moy-fe-till...because it'll _work_!"

Chac listened to House's world of medical gobbledy-gook and wondered if House had been as impressed with the jargon and tricks of his own profession. He doubted it.

-

-

-

During their subsequent love-making, Chac had House in every position the man's bum leg would allow. But his favorite was always...

"Face to face." Chac whispered into his ear as he lay on top of his sexy model who squirmed a bit beneath him, but Chac didn't let him squirm too far. "Ooooo, nice." He said and pressed his lips against House's very tenderly, kissing him with teasing, deft touches over and over, wanting to swell House's desire and his own.

Chac maneuvered his body so his own balls were resting directly on top of House's and their cocks were laying side by side in dual salutes, both twitching with excitement and wet with pre-cum. "This is the my favorite way to screw a man - other than pounding on the back door which I'm hoping you'll let me enjoy later." Chac kissed him and saw House's eyes fall shut. Chac said "Open your eyes."

House stopped kissing back and looked up at him, puzzled. "Why?"

"I like to see my lover's eyes. Especially someone new." Chac kissed House's neck and chin, the tiny indentation just below his left ear, the soft valley of delicate flesh between his cheek and jaw bone. "Because," Chac explained in a whisper, his mouth concentrating on it's wet, sucking journey around House's face, shoulders and chest. "I want to see the reaction in your beautiful blue eyes while I'm doing you. I like looking at my lover's eyes while I'm fucking them. I want to watch what's going on in their mind."

"I'm a guy, there won't be anything going on in my mind."

"Sure there'll be, not just coherent words."

"Like what? -- "Oh, baby you're the biggest ever? Do me, do me, all night long."?"

With his lips around House's right nipple, Chac smiled. "Mmm, maybe. More likely a mind scream something along the lines of: "I'm Hetero' letting a gay man cock-and-ball me and I'm fucking loving it!" Chac returned to his exploration of every inch of House's chest. He wanted the taste and texture recorded in his brain cells for all time. This probably wasn't going to happen a second time.

Chac could hold off no more and took House's hard cock in his saliva-ed fist, folding House's hand around his own, then he slid himself up and down on House, slowly at first, then faster and faster until he came with a flourish, a drawn out moan and a "fuck!" that largely freed itself of its own accord.

House was not there yet and Chac smiled. Older man, takes longer but the build is so much better. Even at twenty-seven, Chac could feel the difference - the improvement - over when he was eighteen. Quick build - almost a sprint. Intense orgasm. Short-lived. Like the fifty yard dash.

A twenty-eight Chac much preferred the five hundred meter. And the older man. In particular sexy, good looking older men with blue, blue eyes, tight asses, long thighs, plump balls and hard, pink cocks.

What was fucking like for fifty year old Doctor Greg? Was it the thousand meter? Ten mile marathon? (No, that wasn't seasoned, that was near-death and Gregory House was far and away from dead). Chac suspected it had been a while since anyone had happily ministered to House's needs, and he was only too horny to oblige.

Chac decided to make it a tasty finish for both of them and seconds before it was obvious House was going to come, he closed his mouth over House's cock and let him pump his load deep into his throat. House bucked and groaned, blindly clutching at Chac's head in the mindlessness of his orgasm.

When House was finished, Chac wiped his mouth and kissed him on the lips again. "That was shit hot. I am _so _going to ASAP fuck you up the ass."

House, catching his breath,. "Yeah,...that was,..."

Chac wondered why House was having trouble finding a word. The man was well educated. He finally decided it wasn't embarrassment or even inability to articulate. House just wasn't the maudlin or mushy type, though Chac was hard pressed to locate anything mushy in "Shit hot" or "Fuck up ass".

Finally House said "That was really _homosexual_."

Chac laughed and rolled over on the man, kissing him hard. Then he slowed down and started in again, molding his lips over House's, savoring and sucking like he was made of milk chocolate.

XXX

"Can I see you again?"

Chac handed House his backpack. He'd had the man under him and beside, on top and what-have-you for a day and half and now it was time for them to both go off to their separate lives again.

Chac rebelled at the thought. "New York isn't far." Chac hoped he didn't sound pathetic. But he still hoped. "I'd like to see you again. I never did get to try that sweet ass of yours."

House fiddled with a strap on his pack. "I'm...not ready for that."

Well, Chac thought, that was at least a hint he might some day _be_ ready. "Can I give you my card at least? Maybe if you're ever in New York,...and want some company..."

House didn't answer yes or no but he did take the card and slip it into the inside pocket of his leather coat. He smiled just a bit. "I never go to New York. Can't stand the _people."_

House ending a perfectly pleasant evening with a joke. Not a big shock. Chac stepped forward, took House by his upper arms and kissed him again, full on the mouth. No point in subtlety. House knew why Chac wanted to see him again, and it sure as hell wasn't to play chess.

House accepted the kiss, kissed back but didn't allow tongue this time. Chac was a little disappointed.

House turned and opened the door to Chac's friend's expensive apartment. He paused in place for a few seconds and Chac thought House had forgotten something.

House turned back, not all the way, and said quietly over his shoulder, "Maybe, if you're ever in New Jersey again..."

House didn't finish, but Chac smiled behind him. He didn't move or say a word, letting the Doctor slip through the door and away without having to endure any longer the agony of the heart-honest moment.

Chac promised himself, "Fuckin' Aye!"

XXX

At her desk in her office with the door closed and the blinds drawn, Cuddy flipped through the finished product with anticipation mixed with anxiety. She hoped to God Chac was right. The project had been a huge investment. Chac Alezandro had walked away with sixty-five thousand dollars of the hospital's budget and if the damn thing wasn't _dynamite_...

She closed her eyes and let her blind fingers open to the first eight by eleven full color print.

Cuddy looked down at a very sexy head and torso shot of Doctor Kassab. All she could think was..._wow!_ Shy, soft spoken Kassab was a hottie.

Then Johnson, St. Pierre, Yates and others were turned to for her scrutiny and, she had to admit, Chac had made them into works of sexual art. They looked great. None of the shots were standard fare. All of them, for each pose, Chac had framed the men in such a way as to make them seem new somehow. Like a hidden side (and not just their bare skin) had been discovered and shared for the first time.

Sexy, alluring, vulnerable, strong, fierce or sweet, each man Chac had photographed in a way that somehow suited them and yet showed something new about them.

Cuddy felt like she was seeing these men on a personal level and all just for her. It was the tilt of the body or head or the look in their eye. And of course, the incredible lighting and shading, the focus, the way Chac had framed the bodies in his mind and then produced that image for his audience.

Cuddy felt a warmth beginning to spread in her. Print after print of the doctors, the men on her staff, exposed, nude, open to the world, all good looking in their own way. Chase, sexy puppy eyes. Wilson, deep dark irises that seemed to stare right through her and caress her soul,..all of them so sexy. So male!

But there was one she had pointedly not looked at yet.

House. She hoped beyond hope that Chac had been right.

Sure House was good-looking in an angry kind of way. And she remembered a nice body back when they...She shook her head.

Chac had _better've_ made House look...

...Cuddy couldn't really find the words to describe what the first photo made her think of. House was leaning against his bike, his cane twirling in his right hand, his head tilted ever so slightly down, his eyes to the distance, looking away. Far away...

His leather jacket tapering to just below his belt, where his jeans fitted,..._snugly_ on his tall frame. Her eyes lingered on the his ass. Yeah, it _was_ a nice tushy. His reflection in the window was turned away, the golden sun of late afternoon isolating him from the closing dusk.

The whole photo made her feel...lonely.

Cuddy shook her head. Chac wasn't just a braggart, he_ was_ good.

Cuddy studied print after print of Chac's magical mystery work with House and was astonished.

House looked amazing in each and every one. How many times had she watched House slumped over in his chair before his white board, deep in puzzled thought over the symptoms written on it? The things that were killing his patient? How many times had she seen that and not seen..._this_?

This House. This doctor with his cane ever in hand, forehead resting on its handle, eyes glowing with concentration, body so tense in its cogitation he appeared to be jumbled together from shards of glass?

And how often had House, infarct-ed, shot, seizing, fevered in sickness, sleeping, dying,...lying on one of her standard gurnies, wrapped in Plainsborough's drab hospital gowns, looking up at the attending, at Stacy, at Wilson, at her, and she had not seen what this print was showing. What was so plainly, so _starkly_ displayed in his eyes? The need. House could never ask for help. This photo screamed it.

Cuddy wondered at what point had she closed her eyes to him? Somehow, looking at this picture, she felt like she had failed him somewhere along the line.

Cuddy changed her mind. Chac wasn't good, he was fucking _fantastic_.

Cuddy lingered over the next few photos of House, a park bench where he went to escape the dullness of the clinic. In this print he looked content. A man who had located, somehow in a city of throngs, a tiny square foot of peace and freedom. God, it was sad and happy and some-goddamn-how, it caressed her soul.

The last two photos took her breath, and her senses, away. Her senses were stirred, confused and scattered about her insides like moths around a flame.

House. Nude. Lying on a table. Back-lit like a work of art in a museum. Naked skin so real, so there, her fingers itched to touch it.

Exposed throat stretching back, angled jaw shadowed with a days growth, but half highlighted with a yellow stream of light that appeared to have been painted on just for the occasion,...the long, muscular thigh and the soft hair running from pelvis to nipples...

Cuddy let a slow breath escape. "Wow..."

The final nude shot of House bent double on a cold metal hospital chair, his legs flexed, his arms bent, the biceps ...every part of him so sensual, so touchable, like he were right there in the room. The cane and even the scar, were perfect on him. There was nothing, _nothing_ in the picture that wasn't vulnerable and sexy, sad and beautiful. And completely human. A man of heightened sex but totally reachable. Mysterious but completely exposed. Needful but fused with power.

His shadowy lit, very male form spoke of aching sexual hunger. Nothing artificial. No shiny perfect skin but naked body and naked soul. Absolute beauty.

The face, softly handsome and compelling. So incredibly compelling. A man wounded in the ways of life and love but healing and whole.

And House's eyes. Cuddy could hardly believe how gorgeous they were. How gorgeous _he_ was. Blue opals set into a man's angular, unusual, handsome face but betraying the almost hidden call of a boy who had lost his way. Disbelief was in those perfect eyes. Simple needs and an utter trust stared back at her from the page. It was as though House was wanting her. Needing - so _badly_ needing her.

Only her and no one else.

"Holy_ fuck." _Cuddy was not a woman who gave way to swearing but nothing else seemed to convey how powerfully the picture moved her. "House is...House is..."

Cuddy looked away. Her most secret places throbbed.

House was a fucking sex object served up by an artist who had never heard of Playgirl and if he had, he would have turned his nose up, nauseated by the cheap "fast-food" offerings.

Chac's House was ten courses of vulnerability and sex under glass.

"Cuddy!" Her door opened with a whoosh of invasive air, carrying with it a tornado of a man in a rumpled shirt and for all intents and purposes, a flying cane. "My computer is still MIA." House said, a crumpled paper in one hand, the other waving the cane around like a baton. He stopped in front of Cuddy's desk, leaned over and glared down on her.

"Uh, that's true." She said, still trying to shake the image of naked, sexy, alluring House from her eyes (not to mention reconcile _that_ image with the wrinkled bundle of comical grumpiness that stood before her now).

"Well? What are you going to do about it?"

Cuddy rested her chin in one hand and stared up at House. She stared long enough that he stopped himself before launching into another tirade to stare back instead. Then he frowned.

And she smiled.

House turned his head slightly and watched her through narrowed, suspicious eyes.

Cuddy tilted her head slightly and looked back with large, expressive, smiling eyes, a twitch of mystery on her red painted lips.

A mystery House could not read. _"What?" _He finally asked.

"The calendars came today."

House's eyes snapped to attention. And wariness. "You look..." He considered for a moment, "..happy. _I think_. Or am I fired?"

Cuddy didn't open it to show House. He would not have looked anyway. "The calendar is wonderful, House. You look very se - _ahem!_ - you look very, very nice in it. _Very_ good. Thank you for doing it."

"You're welcome." He answered and set the paper down on her desk, evidently the other reason he had come to her office. "That's the recommended raises for my staff - the bigger number is for me. I had to write it myself because my boss is too busy looking at my tush instead of getting my computer fixed." He limped to her door to leave.

"But House," Cuddy said, her voice softly seductive, "it's such a nice tush."

House paused at the door and half turned back, not responding to the observation. "You were right, though."

"Oh? About what?"

"About the project. About doing the calendar." House opened the door.

With a mystery smile, he looked back. "It got me a date."

XXX

END

Next installment of Die Trying by Tuesday!


End file.
